Forgiveness in Unlikely Places
by ilovetvalot
Summary: Post ep "Demonology". Emily needs a soft place to land after the horrors of her past come back to haunt her. Co-auth'd w/tonnie2001969. Will be six chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N - This is a post-ep for the episode "Demonology". Hope you all enjoy it. It will be six chapters (already written). Please feel free to drop me a note and let me know what you think. Thank you! As ever, we don't own Criminal Minds._**

**Forgiveness in Unlikely Places**

**Chapter One**

Damn it! It was twenty-nine damn degrees. Where the hell was she? He'd checked the office. The past few months had taught him that if Emily Prentiss had something on her mind, her first inclination was to bury herself in case files and wall herself off from the world. He'd struck out there.

He'd checked her apartment next. And found her car still parked in the covered parking lot. It had taken him almost twenty minutes to pick her lock after pounding on her door for five. He frowned at the recollection. His skills were getting rusty. But after he'd finally made it inside, she hadn't been there either. And that's when his heart had begun to beat faster. Because if she wasn't at work and she wasn't at home…she was on foot. In the freezing cold. In the snow. And ice. With only a thin coat on.

Not to be defeated, he retraced his path back to the Catholic Church they'd parted in front of that night. He'd known when they'd separated earlier this evening that those old feelings of guilt were cresting in waves over the seemingly fragile brunette. But, she hadn't wanted his company. He'd offered. Twice. And he'd known by the look on her face after the second offer that pushing it wouldn't be wise. Now, he could kick himself. He should have pushed it. Hell, he should have shoved. Unfortunately, it had been no dice at God's House either. The elderly priest there had denied seeing her since she'd left earlier that evening. But, Dave had gained his agreement to call if she showed up. Feeling the first stirring of panic rising, he tamped down on it. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but he was worried.

Because now he couldn't find her. And that scared the shit out of him. He hadn't felt that bitter taste in his mouth in a long time. Longer than he liked to remember. Sometimes, he'd wondered if he still had the ability to fear anything, having seen as much as he had and lived through some pretty horrific things. But tonight proved it. David Rossi could still be scared. And he was scared now.

As he viciously slapped on the turn signal to the hidden driveway leading to his cabin, he debated his options. He could start calling hospitals and police stations. But, he thought maybe that would be a bit dramatic this early on. It had only been four hours. He could begin to call the other members of their team. But, if Emily was simply sitting in a bar getting shit faced, he doubted she'd thank him for calling out their own personal version of the National Guard later. Bitterly, he thought that if she'd have just answered her fucking cell, it wouldn't be an issue. But, no, nothing could ever be that simple.

Damn her! Why the hell did he suddenly care so much?

Except, he admitted to himself, it really wasn't sudden, was it? He'd been intrigued by the younger agent since he'd met her that first day in the bullpen. Images of her flashed in his mind. That slightly perplexed half smile she gave when something bemused her. That determined gaze she could turn on someone when she knew she was right about something. That lost look that sometimes entered her eyes before she could hide it behind a mask of neutrality when things became slightly overwhelming. She was an alluring mass of contradictions. And, now, he was worried about her. If he managed not to kiss her senseless when he found her, he might just kill her.

But before he could do anything of the kind either way, he had to find her. Angling his SUV down the icy driveway, his breath caught in his throat as his glowing headlights illuminated his wooden deck. But it wasn't the deck that caused his heart to sputter in his chest. No, the source of that anomaly sat huddled in one of the deep chaises against the house.

Emily Prentiss


	2. Chapter 2

**Forgiveness in Unlikely Places**

**Chapter Two**

She hadn't known where else to go. Shivering slightly as she drew her thin, ineffectual black coat tightly around her cold body, she wondered idly if she'd ever feel warm again. Looking around the deserted, snow covered yard, Emily shook her head. How she'd ended up here at _his _home, she didn't understand. She'd only been sure that if she went back to her apartment, the night would have taken a turn for the worse. The sleeping pills she kept in her medicine cabinet and the wine she always had in the rack on her kitchen counter would have ensured that.

Because, quite simply, the guilt was killing her. And, she was fairly certain that at points tonight, she'd wanted to die.

She could feel tears slipping down her cheeks, leaving icy tracks in their wake. God, how she hated to cry. Especially since she knew her tears would solve nothing. Hard as she had tried though, tonight she couldn't stop the flood.

She'd walked for hours around D.C. as those tears had slid down her face. Hours. And she still hurt as much as if she'd made that emotional, life-changing decision yesterday. It was true, she thought bitterly. You couldn't outrun, or outwalk, as the case had been, the pain. It stayed with you. It had definitely stayed with her frozen feet. The pain never really went away. It took a sabbatical every now and then, but she knew it would always be with her. Indefinitely. Eternally. If she'd only known then what she knew now. She'd have changed it all.

Dear God, if only the guilt _could_ actually kill her. Then, maybe, she'd have some relief from this torture.

Flexing her stiffened fingers, she knew instinctively why she'd sought him out. David Rossi knew the secret she'd shared with very few. He knew. And when she'd told him, she hadn't seen the repulsion in his eyes that she'd seen in the few she _had _actually had the courage to confide in. Not that there had been that many.

Five.

Five people knew her secret. The boy that had fathered her child, the dead best friend that had supported her choice, her mother, her first real love, and now, Dave.

She'd seen judgment in four of those individual's eyes when she'd shared her secret. And tonight, she'd actively sought out the one person she hadn't seen that chilling disdain in. She thought she'd actually seen understanding in his eyes when she'd divulged her deepest, darkest secret to him. But, it could have been her imagination. She was the self-acknowledged queen at writing a revisionist history when it suited her needs. The probability was that he was most likely just worlds better than the average man at hiding his aversion to her twenty year old actions. He was a world class profiler after all.

Shuddering as her thoughts clamored in her mind, Emily closed her eyes as she leaned her head back against the ice cold cushion, her nostrils comforted by the smell of the smell of wood smoke. One of Dave's neighbors must have a fire going. Maybe she could sleep and just let it all slip away. It would be so easy to lose herself in the swirling darkness beckoning her. It had called to her for years. Ever since…ever since she'd stolen a life before it had really gotten a chance to begin.

She was hell bound. All the priests agreed on that one. And all because of one impulsive choice that she'd made before she was even old enough to know what it would truly mean. But, if she could just slip away for a little while, maybe she could escape those voices in her mind telling her what a horrific excuse for a human being she was. Just for a little while. Just long enough for her to somehow find the strength to slam those voices back into their box at the back of her mind.

Distantly, she thought she heard her last name being called. It had a familiar voice attached to it. A comforting voice. There was something safe about its timber and texture. If only she could lift her heavy lids and see if the owner was who she desperately hoped it was. Maybe he could find her in the darkness. He had a knack for dealing with hidden horrors of all kinds, that man.

David Rossi.


	3. Chapter 3

**Forgiveness in Unlikely Places**

**Chapter Three**

Slamming his SUV into park and jerking his keys out of the ignition, Rossi's eyes widened in surprise. She was _here_. In the one place he'd have never thought to find her. His home.

Narrowing his eyes on her still form as he slammed the door shut, he suddenly realized that her eyes were closed. He couldn't see much more than that in the dim moonlight, but he could definitely see that her eyes were most definitely closed. And she was still.

Much, much too still. And his sudden relief at having found her diminished. Just as quickly, gut wrenching, bone chilling fear replaced that brief respite he'd had as he'd initially seen her.

"Prentiss! Prentiss!" he yelled, sliding on the ice as he ran toward the glazed wooden steps of his deck.

Searching her face as his hand gripped the wooden banister, keeping him upright, he saw nothing. No flicker. No nothing. Shit! Taking the steps two at a time, he yelled, his voice echoing in the frozen silence, "Prentiss! Open your goddamned eyes!"

Finally gaining her side, he knelt in front of her, unmindful of the cold wet snow beneath his knees. Reaching automatically to feel a pulse in her neck, he was rewarded with a faint thumping against his chilled fingertips.

"Prentiss! Come on, open your eyes," he ordered sharply as he kept his eyes focused on her face, needing to see just a glimmer of response. Grabbing her hands in his, her ungloved fingers felt like ice against his…and he quickly prayed that the bluish tinge of her lips was a trick of the moonlight.

But somewhere inside, he knew it wasn't.

Slapping sharply at her chilled cheeks, he ordered gruffly, worry coloring his every word, "Don't you dare do this! Wake up, Prentiss! Goddamn you, wake up now!" A deep part of him knew that he could not survive losing her when he felt that he had only just found her. And no damn snowstorm was going to take her away from him.

Chocolate eyes fluttered lightly as she slurred, barely audible in the cold air, "Tired…so, so, tired."

Hearing her voice returned hope to his world as he gathered her slight body against his, wrapping his arms tightly around her limp form. "I don't give a damn how tired you are, Emily. Open your damn eyes and keep them open for me," he ordered, his words harsh even to his own ears as he dug in his jeans for the keys to his house.

The weight of her leaning against him as he unlocked the door was heavy…almost dead weight...but he knew he had to keep her close to him, to let his body heat start to seep into her. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he propelled them both into the overwhelming warmth of his kitchen. Catching her body against his as she stumbled, Dave shook his head almost angrily. What the hell had she been thinking?

But looking down at the dried tears against her too pale cheeks, he realized that, perhaps, she hadn't been thinking. She'd been reacting to the entire horror of the present and of her past. Brushing the limp, soggy hair back from her face as he eased her nearly unconscious body into a kitchen chair, he ordered again, somewhat more gently, "Emily, you have to open your eyes for me."

"Don't want to," she mumbled, almost incoherently, her words jumbling on her tongue and in her mind. "Just want it all to stop."

"Life doesn't stop just because we want it to," he growled deeply as he clutched almost painfully at her hands. "Not the way it works, Emily," he muttered, kneeling again at her feet as he slipped her black flats off icy feet. Staring at the inappropriate shoes, considering the weather outside, he mused over how the hell had she managed to walk anywhere in those things on the ice? Jesus, it was a wonder she hadn't broken something trying.

Gazing up her body at her still closed eyes, he chafed her feet, trying to transfer warmth into her definitely frozen skin. Reminding himself that her life was more important than his answers, he knew he had to prioritize. Questioning her could wait, he thought, looking at her blue lips again and frowning. First, he had to get her warm.

Rising from his position on the floor, he pulled her slack body back into his arms as he turned toward the back staircase of his house, shifting her against him as he tried to keep her as close as possible. "Shit," he muttered to himself, gazing down at her still blank face, still totally non-responsive. It suddenly struck him that he was going to have to undress her. And he had to admit, despite his fantasies about her, this wasn't quite the way he'd ever imagined doing it.

Reaching his darkened bedroom, he hit the light switch with his elbow before crossing the room and lowering her into his dark leather easy chair in the corner. Once again shaking his head at her, as he bent over her body, he whispered, almost sadly, "What the hell possessed you to do this to yourself?" The words had to be said, even though he knew no answer was forthcoming, at least not yet.

Reluctantly leaving her for a bare moment, he forced himself toward the bathroom, reaching for the controls of his large shower. Adjusting the temperature to as warm as he thought would be bearable against her possibly frozen skin, he quickly returned to her.

"You are going to be so pissed about this later," he mumbled, quickly unbuttoning the damp blue fitted dress shirt and untucking it from her slacks. "But, you really should have thought about this before you tried freezing yourself to death," he continued, keeping up his meaningless babble in an effort to distract himself from the delectable body he was unveiling. Now was NOT the time to enjoy the scenery, he told himself sternly as he unfastened her bra almost clinically. She was near frozen and almost unconscious. Very probably going into shock, he acknowledged, unfastening her slacks quickly as he slid them down cold legs. Removing her white lacy panties, he clenched his jaw. Yeah, she was definitely gonna kill him later when she realized exactly how far he'd gone to save her life.

And as long as he was successful and she rejoined him in his version of reality that would be okay.

Lifting her limp body back into his strong arms, he retraced his steps toward the running shower. Stepping inside the bathroom, he looked around approvingly at the steamy room. It was already several degrees warmer in here than the bedroom. Looking down at her face, he ordered, harshly, "Prentiss! Open your eyes! I'm gonna stand you in the shower! Prentiss!"

Eyes fluttering open as she tried to comprehend the buzzing in her ears, she asked hoarsely, "Rossi?"

Relieved to see her opened eyes, even if they did appear dazed, he nodded. "It's me. We need to get you warm. I'm gonna stand you up in the shower, okay?"

Somewhere within the dullness that had overtaken her mind and her body, Emily realized Dave was speaking to her. Her head moved on its own accord, part of her innately trusting that whatever he was saying would be better than what she was feeling at that very moment.

Waiting until he saw her slight nod, he edged the shower curtain back with his elbow, lowering her on unsteady feet to the tiled floor. Keeping a strong hand wrapped around her forearm, he watched her shudder convulsively as the warm spray hit her body.

The sharp needles pierced against her frigid skin, and Emily unconsciously tried to pull away from the pain. "Hurts," she bit out hoarsely.

"Good," he nodded, satisfied that she was at least responding to something. "That means you aren't frostbitten anywhere," he told her unapologetically, tightening his grip as she tried unsuccessfully to escape. "It'll get better in a minute. You need to get warm."

"I'm fine," she argued breathlessly, her mind responding quicker this time, trying to take a step back in the small enclosure only to feel her legs weaken beneath her. She swatted ineffectually at his tight fingers as she muttered weakly, "Let me go."

"Not a chance, Prentiss," he returned sternly, staring down at her face, satisfied the rivulets of warm water were doing their job. "Just stand there and let the hot water do its job."

Stepping a bit closer as he tightened his grip again, he realized his flannel covered arm was being soaked underneath the heavy pelt of the water, but he couldn't risk letting her go yet. The shudders had begun to roll through her body in earnest.

Long minutes later, the shudders wracking her thin body had receded, replaced by a sporadic full body shiver every few minutes. But, her skin had regained a rosy glow in the places he'd allowed himself to look and she was no longer fighting the grip he had on her arm. All things considered, he took those as signs of improvement.

For those minutes, Emily couldn't comprehend more than the fact that her body was starting to feel alive once again. The sheer pain caused by the nettling water gave way to an invading sense of warmth, and she allowed herself to just feel, not think.

Reaching his free hand around the other side of the slick shower curtain, he turned the spray of water off as he held her still-weak body steady with his other hand. Reaching for a towel from the heated rack conveniently located beside him, he wrapped her haphazardly in the fluffy oversized terrycloth. Pulling her lax body out of the stall, he wordlessly guided her out of the doorway into his bedroom, again recognizing that she didn't fight him.

Easing her lightly shivering body on the side of his bed, he frowned as she stared at the floor, her eyes never wavering. Moving toward his chest of drawers, he quickly located a soft pair of his sweatpants, an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of heavy wool socks. She wouldn't be a fashion model in his clothes, but she'd be warm, he told himself resolutely.

Moving back to her hunched form sitting on his bed, he spoke calmly. "We need to get you dressed. You're probably going to have pneumonia as it is. Let's hope nothing worse than that," he began, easing the cotton sweatshirt over her damp head.

Rotely, Emily raised her arms when she felt the thick fabric slide against her face, grateful for the additional warmth that the covering provided. Her mind still couldn't form coherent thoughts, the entire situation seeming surreal as she felt his hands against her bare skin.

Bending he slipped the sweatpants up toned legs and slipped the heavy socks over still chilled feet. Releasing a long breath as he stared at her bent head, he eased her back against his pillows. "Just sit there a minute, Emily and don't move. I'm going to change my shirt and make us some coffee. Then, we're going to talk and you're going to explain all this to me," he told her in a voice that didn't invite argument.

She heard his words, once again that deep voice invading through the fog that settled on the edges of her mind. But her voice couldn't create a response, so she settled for communicating silently, retreating back into the emotional shell she was building inside.

Watching as she blankly nodded, her eyes never leaving the wall in front of her, he sighed. "I'll be back in a few minutes."


	4. Chapter 4

**Forgiveness in Unlikely Places**

**Chapter Four**

As David Rossi alit from the last step of his staircase, he allowed himself a moment to simply lean forward and grip the banister with a tightened hand. This was so not how he envisioned spending his night. But at least he'd found her. Or rather, she'd found him. Couldn't say he was really pleased with the condition she was in. But, she was warming up, and she had improved some. And that was a start.

Moving toward the small utility room at the back of the house, he shook his head as he looked down at his current situation. He needed a shirt. He was drenched. And he hadn't wanted to make Emily any more uncomfortable than she already was by changing in front of her. When she realized he'd seen her naked, she was going to be humiliated enough. He didn't want to compound things now. While he hoped that she might begin to look at him the way he saw her, he knew that point was so far in the future, he doubted it could even be considered a point. It was more like a dot. A speck, really.

But he hoped it was there.

Reaching inside the dryer and pulling out another long sleeved flannel shirt, he quickly stripped the soggy one he was wore off. As the air hit his skin, he felt himself shudder at the emotions running through his mind. Jesus! When was the last time he'd felt that kind of numbing fear that he'd felt finding her like that on his porch? Pushing his arms through the sleeves, Dave shook his head. He wasn't quite certain that he'd ever experienced that level of emotion. And sadly, he had a feeling he might feel that unwelcome emotion again before this night was done. Because it was patently obvious that Emily Prentiss was nowhere near as together as she purported herself to be. Somewhere along the way, those patched cracks in her heart had shattered again. And her pain was as raw now as it had been twenty years ago.

As much as he wanted to keep her from experiencing the sorrow, that was not going to be a possibility. Unfortunately, he knew from experience there was no way around her pain. The only direction she could go was through it. But she didn't have to do that alone. Not tonight.

Moving back into the kitchen, he reached automatically for the dark blend of coffee he preferred, mindlessly preparing the coffeepot and pressing the "Brew" button with more force than necessary. Shuddering himself as he stared out into the icy night, he closed his eyes, only to see her chilled pale body resting against the deck chair in his mind's eye.

Flashing open his own eyes, he shook those thoughts away. Sternly, he told himself that she'd be okay. He'd come home in time, hadn't he? He hadn't been too late.

Thanking God that he hadn't followed his original plan to look for Emily at JJ's small condo, he had a feeling the consequences of that action would have haunted him the rest of his life. Staring out at the cold darkness outside his kitchen window, he recognized that he'd just barely found her in time. How long had she wandered around in the shit outside? By the feel of her skin and her lack of response, it had to have been hours…at least four hours. And with barely enough protection against the elements to protect a field mouse.

Damn it! His hands clenched against his side as he thought, not for the first time, that he should never have left her tonight.

Glancing toward the ceiling of his kitchen, almost as if he could see through the layers of construction, he hoped she was okay.

"How long does it take to make a damn pot of coffee anyway?" he asked himself, impatiently tapping his foot against the tiled floor below his feet as he glared at the glass carafe catching the drops of hot liquid.

Finally after what seemed like endless minutes, he watched the red light of the coffeemaker flicker out, indicating a ready pot. Muttering to himself as he quickly poured two steamy mugs, he absently added the creamer he knew she took to hers. Funny how he could remember meaningless details about Prentiss and yet he'd never bothered with his own wives.

Drawing a deep fortifying breath into suddenly burning lungs, he gazed toward the staircase. Steeling himself, he began to steadily climb toward his bedroom. And toward the woman waiting for him there. She needed him. She needed him, whether she knew it or not. And this was one time that David Rossi was determined not to fail a woman.

Especially this woman.


	5. Chapter 5

**_A/N - Greetings! I hope you are all enjoying this exciting journey. We're definitely still enjoying writing it! I just wanted to take this opportunity to let readers know that I will be posting again on Monday. We're going to take this weekend and try to get some additional chapters and stories in the Vault. As ever, I still appreciate all the feedback and reviews you guys offer. It keeps me inspired and gives me hope that we're still on the right track. And, like always, I couldn't do any of this without my great co-author and friend, tonnie2001969. She's a rock. And without her outlines and plot direction, none of the magic happens! And remember, we don't own Criminal Minds. _**

**Forgiveness in Unlikely Places **

**Chapter Five**

Slipping silently back into his bedroom, he found her in much the same position as he'd left her, propped against his pillows staring straight ahead. Crossing the room, he placed the hot mug of coffee into her nerveless fingers, helping her wrap them around the ceramic. Even if she didn't drink it, maybe it would warm up those cold hands of hers.

Even before the cup had settled firmly into her grip, Emily felt the warmth start to flow into her tingling fingers. She felt herself clutching it tighter as she sought the extra heat, almost curling herself around the small mug. The smell of the deep liquid wafted toward her face as the slight steam tickled her nose.

Taking his own mug he crossed the room to the easy chair in the corner, easing down into it wordlessly. Watching her for a few moments as she simply held the mug in her hands while she stared into space, he ordered calmly, "Drink it, Emily."

"You always make it too strong," she finally replied, finding her words, gazing down at the steaming cup in her hands.

"You'll live," he shrugged, still studying her face as he took another sip of his own. "At least until you can get up and make your own pot. It's hot and it's caffeine. Two things I think you're in desperate need of right now."

Smiling faintly, she allowed her eyes to fall closed for a second, grateful for his words and his actions. This is why she'd come here. This was why she had come to David Rossi. His rational mind. His unwillingness to state things any other way but exactly how they were. His honesty…his compassion. She knew he wouldn't cut her any slack…but he wouldn't be cruel either. He'd be honest. And, God, how she valued that quality. And if she was being honest with herself, she would admit that blend of characteristics uniquely his own was what attracted her to the older man.

Taking a slow sip of the scalding liquid, she winced at the overwhelming taste. She was right. Too strong. Taking a moment to gather herself as the burning liquid slid down her throat, she eyed her masculine surroundings. Crème walls. Dark wood furniture. Forest green comforter. Mocha colored sheets underneath her. It was definitely a man's room. No, she thought to herself, hazarding a quick glance in his direction, it was HIS room.

It all fit him. Even the scent of the room melded to the man sitting quietly across the room from her. Woodsy. Fresh. Clean. Intense. Sighing, she steeled herself as she took another sip of coffee, needing the heat the liquid offered. Luckily, it wasn't quite as bad this time around. She was prepared for the bitter taste.

Sliding deeper against the pillow at her back, Emily could hear the silent questions hanging in the air. Sighing to herself, she realized that she owed him an explanation. She could feel his eyes on her…waiting. Finally searching for words, she whispered, simply, "I didn't know where else to go."

Telling himself that he was at least glad that she was speaking, Rossi shook his head. "Okay," he responded slowly, evenly. As she lapsed back into silence, he noted that the color had started to return to her cheek as she took steady sips of the coffee in her hands. The shock was beginning to ebb from her system, and he was grateful.

Because he had things to say. Questions that he wanted answered.

But he wanted her fully coherent first. So, he'd display a rare patience he seldom showed to others, and he'd wait, in silence if necessary. He knew demands of any kind would be met with cool silence that would rival the iceberg temperatures outside. He'd profiled that aspect of her nature months ago, and he had no doubt that his assumptions were still true.

When she'd finally drained the mug and placed it on his bedside table, carefully pulling a book underneath it lest she stain the wood, he finally spoke. "You realize that you almost killed yourself tonight," he commented, his tone almost, but not quite, conversational.

"No," she whispered, automatically shaking her head as she wrapped her arms around her chest. She added, almost confidentially, "That's what I was trying to prevent by coming here."

He'd expected her denial. But not in those terms. Those terms indicated she'd thought about letting herself go. Those terms told him that she'd considered it. Those terms caught his breath in his throat.

Those terms weren't acceptable. At all.


	6. Chapter 6

******_A/N - Okay, decided to only go Sunday without posting. Please review and let me know ya'll are still reading! And is anybody else seeing their story traffic acting screwy. According to that, I've got practically no readers. I really, really hope that's wrong. LOL! Thanks, guys, and as ever, I own nothing!_**

**Forgiveness in Unlikely Places**

**Chapter 6**

"What did you just say?" Dave asked, cocking his head and narrowing his eyes on the woman in his bed. Fighting the fear that started clawing in the pit of his stomach, he forced himself to not over-react. He had to have misheard those words…at the very least, he hoped he misunderstood their meaning.

Ignoring the question, Emily could only shake her head as she felt emotion clog her throat. She wasn't used to being this exposed. To being this vulnerable. She never allowed it. Yet, here she was, in her co-worker's bed, about to confide her demons to a man that she knew had several of his own.

Biting her lip, Emily stared down at her finally warm hands. Fleetingly, she was surprised to be able to feel them at all. She thought the numbness would never end. "Have you ever felt a shame so great that you thought it would swallow you whole, Dave?" she asked quietly from the bed, studying her fingernails with great interest.

"I know your secret, Emily. You told me. Believe me, you've got nothing to feel ashamed for," Dave replied carefully, watching her face for any signs of emotion.

"That's not what I asked you," she said, automatically rejecting his conciliatory words. She might be slightly off her game, but she knew a diversion when she heard it. And she needed to know the answer to that question, for reasons she couldn't quite explain.

"Maybe you didn't. But what I just said isn't any less true," he stated quietly, watching her fingers toy with the comforter below her hands. "And, no, I don't think I've ever felt what you've been experiencing. Doesn't mean that I can't help though."

"Can you go back in time and help me undo the murder I committed?" Emily asked bitterly, her breath catching in her throat as she wiped violently at a stray tear rolling down her cheek. She hated the feelings that were coursing through her at that moment, feelings that she thought she had successfully buried years ago. How could they be escaping now?

"Emily," Dave sighed, heart clenching at the pain etched across her face. "Don't do this to yourself."

"How can you know everything and not judge me?" Emily whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of the pain. "You're Catholic, for God's sake."

"Yeah," Dave snorted, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "I'm a thrice divorced lapsed Catholic, Emily," he clarified. "Who the fuck am I to stand in judgment of you? I'm pretty sure that I've committed enough sins of my own to float us both a couple of centuries."

"It's never stopped anybody that I told before," she said softly, memories of those very moments flooding back to the surface. Tightly closing her eyes, she tried to stop the deluge. She was not successful.

"I'm not anybody and evidently, you chose to share your secret with some pretty ignorant people," Dave said tersely, his jaw clenching at the thought. "I repeat, you don't have anything you need to be ashamed of."

"My mother will be thrilled to know that you think so highly of her," Emily laughed without humor, finally opening her eyes again as she drew a deep breath.

"I don't give a damn what your mother thinks, one way or another. At the moment, my only concern is what YOU think, Emily," Dave declared, then added, softening his voice, "You're suffering and punishing yourself for an event that happened twenty years ago because you never dealt with it. That's what I care about."

How could he understand what she had been through? Leveling him with a look that would have frozen a lesser man in his tracks, Emily ground out, "You have no idea how I feel."

"Then tell me," he invited calmly, unwilling to rise to the bait. At least she had given him an open door, something that he could build on, something that could use to help her. Finally.

Something about his voice told her that he truly wanted to know, that he honestly was interested in the whole story. "I took an innocent life, Rossi," Emily said on a soft gust of air. "The sin that I committed….there's a black mark on my soul."

"Emily, at the risk of sounding repetitive, you were FIFTEEN years old. You were still little more than a child yourself. God forgives," Dave told her quietly, throwing up a quick prayer to the heavens for any divine intervention that he could get.

"How?" she asked, her voice harsh in the quiet room. "How can He do that when I can't forgive myself?" For twenty something years, she had been trying to do that very thing, and she honestly didn't think that was going to change in these few minutes. Clutching at the blankets as she felt her body suddenly cool again, she wondered if she would ever feel normal again.

Shaking his head as he watched a shiver claim the small woman on his bed, he pushed out of the recliner he sat in and crossed the room to her. Gazing down at her, he ordered softly, "Scoot over, Emily."

Half-smiling as she eyed him warily, he promised, "Go on, scoot over. I'm not going to bite you, I swear."

Obediently shifting to the middle of the bed, she held her breath as he sat down beside her. It was hard for her to admit that she wanted him this close, needed him to provide something that she couldn't provide for herself right then.

Dropping a heavy arm around her shoulders, he pulled her against his chest. "I want you to listen to me for a minute, Emily," he murmured against her hair, drawing a hand through the wet strands. "Will you do that?" Feeling her nod against his chest, he continued, softly, "You got pregnant when you were fifteen years old. You were thousands of miles away from home, surrounded by two distant parents that never took the time to know their daughter and two friends, one of which got you pregnant, that had no more clue than you did over how to handle things. You did the best you could. You made a decision that changed the rest of your life. But, what were your other options, Emily? Really? Could you have gone to your parents?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Forgiveness in Unlikely Places**

**Chapter Seven**

Even the thoughts of doing that now still shook her to her core. Shaking her head against his chest, her voice was muffled as she whispered, "They'd have killed me. Or at least made me wish I was dead."

"That's what I thought," Dave sighed, rubbing the tense muscles underneath her hair. "Emily, you made the best decision you could at the time. It's not the same decision you'd make now, I know. But you've had twenty years of living between then and now to learn some of life's lessons."

"It's just," Emily began, wanting to explain, but abruptly stopping as she realized that what she was going to say sounded extremely selfish.

"Just what, Emily. Tell me," Dave urged calmly, drawing a warm hand down her back, rubbing small circles against the heaviness of his own sweatshirt.

Her words slid out slowly, halting on each thought as she whispered, "I look at JJ with Henry…and I think, 'I could have had that. The love, the devotion of an innocent child.'" Her words faded off, and she fought back a broken sob as she barely whispered, the cold invading her again, "'And I killed it.'"

"There is no comparison, Emily," Dave replied softly. "None," he murmured, squeezing her to him as she trembled again. "The child you were twenty years ago wasn't ready for a baby. Hell, the environment you were raised in alone wasn't exactly designed for a fifteen year old teenager, let alone an infant. You would never have been able to have that kind of life with your child then. JJ's thirty-one years old. A grown woman. Financially stable and in a committed relationship. You were a kid. You didn't have any of those benefits. You're trying to see the decisions you made then through the eyes of the thirty-five year old woman that you are now. And the two people are worlds apart. You aren't the same person you were twenty years ago, Emily. And kids…they make bad decisions. But, in this instance, I don't think you did."

His words seemed to reach a part of her soul that she had thought was already dead. Shifting her face against his chest, Emily slowly felt herself begin to relax in his arms, his comfort seeping into her inch by inch. "Do you actually believe that?"

"I don't say things that I don't mean," Dave returned implacably, tightening his grip as he felt her settling deeper against him. "I think you have to learn to forgive yourself. I also think you need to learn to pick up the phone and call me when you feel this overwhelmed. Unless you really do want to get pneumonia."

"You seem less angry now," Emily murmured, wondering if she would ever forget that livid tone she had heard in his voice earlier.

"I was never angry, Emily. But scaring the hell out of me isn't exactly conducive to putting me in a great mood," Dave replied calmly. Shifting her to allow him to stare down into her tired eyes, he added, "And you did scare me. More than I like to admit."

She had never meant to scare him. Shaking her head, she apologized softly as she said, "I'm sorry. I thought about calling you before I came, but my phone's battery had died. It just seemed easier to grab a cab and ask you for forgiveness rather than permission when I got here, you know?"

"I guess I do," he nodded, that very method something he had employed on many occasions. Smiling softly down at her deep black eyes, he said, "I was out looking for you, you know."

Almost sitting up, she stared at him in sheer amazement. "You were?" Emily asked, shocked.

"Got worried when you wouldn't pick up your phone," he shrugged, easily pulling her back down.

In all her years, she'd never had someone readily admit to being concerned for her. Oh, she was sure Matthew had worried, in his own adolescent way…but, this…this was different. And she was grateful. Grateful that he'd cared enough to be concerned. Grateful that the man beside her had been willing to comfort an obviously damaged woman. Grateful that, of all the people in the world, this is the one that had found her tonight.

"I'm really sorry, Dave," Emily whispered. "I never meant to…"

Shaking his head, David hushed her. "It's over, Emily. You're okay. Or you will be in time. You had enough sense to seek out another person tonight. I'm proud of you for that," he told her softly.

Feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes, Emily swallowed as she stared at one of his hands resting on his stomach as the other ran soothingly over her back. Yet another thing she'd not often heard in her life.

"I didn't know where else to go. You were the first person I ever told that didn't automatically label me in their mind," she confided through her thickened throat.

"You don't ever need to fear coming to me, Emily," Dave promised. "I'll help wherever I can. You know that."

"Yeah, you've sort of proven that to me over the past few days," she conceded. "What I want to know is why, Dave?"

"That's another story for another day, Emily," Dave murmured, patting her back. "For now, you've had a long day and need to get some sleep," he said quietly, reaching out an arm to flip off the bedside lamp.

"You'll stay?" she whispered in the darkened room.

"It's my bed," he reminded her with a chuckle, shifting onto his side to curl around her back. Smoothing back her still damp hair, he said softly, "Just sleep, Emily. Tonight is done and tomorrow will take care of itself."

Nodding drowsily, Emily felt him rest a comfortably heavy arm around her narrow waist. Maybe there was hope after all.

_**FINIS**_


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